Not a working day, historically a “day of rest”
A day made sacred by the opportunity to worship
That illusive God, hidden, yet deists say all-pervasive
Perhaps in the peace today we might discover Him
At the appointed hour the remnant of adherents
To the faith of old, gather in their sanctuary
Not really full of expectation, but hope still rises
Perhaps somehow the Presence will be manifested
Why do they still gather, why follow this threadbare custom
Why not clothe their lives with a newer vision?
Because not only habit dies hard, but deeper longing
For comfort, for peace, for forgiveness still lingers
Forgiveness for what? For their sins, of course
Do these fragile bodies bear the scars of carnal sin?
Have they not lived out their lives in love and service?
Yes indeed, but echoes of Augustine’s doctrine still haunt
All have sinned, even these kindly souls, and in their hearts
They must confess, and seek reconciliation with their God
Surely they will find blessedness and comfort
As they open their hearts in prayer and confession
But they come together not only to expiate
They gather to bring their worship and adoration
On the lips of young, but mainly old throughout this land
Praise still rises from lips to that God who loves each one
And the hour of worship affords us time to hear again
The reading of the ancient scriptures, the wisdom,
the poetry, the stories of God’s peoples down the years
And the message of His sacrifice and saving grace for each and all
And as the time of worship draws to a close
We bless each other in the benediction
And the calm order of the service gives way
As we commune in joy with tea and cakes!